


If we'd ever die for these sins

by littleramblings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: And angsty, End!verse, M/M, it's pre-slash, need i say more?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleramblings/pseuds/littleramblings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You really don't get it, do you?” future him murmurs, shaking his head. It's as if he almost pities him, and that's something Dean really doesn't need (nor want). “I didn't let him go. I let him live.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	If we'd ever die for these sins

**Author's Note:**

> End!Verse gives me a lot of feelings that I apparently attempt to reiterate in semi-coherent pieces of fiction. 
> 
> Alternatively read: My first attempt at SPN fic. *Runs and hides because it's a practice run, people. Don't hate me just yet.*

Dean's not quite sure how he managed to get out of the hut without saying something, without grabbing Cas by the shoulders and shaking him, shouting about how fucked up this is and how he needs to snap out of it _this instant,_ but he did.

 

He doesn't mention it when future him gets back from wherever the hell he had been, he doesn't mention it when Chuck asks him if he's okay, and he certainly doesn't mention it when Castiel laughs, smiles in a way that Dean would give anything to never see again, and says to the jackass who shares his face that he _likes_ past Dean.

 

He should have known, then, that when it _does_ come out, it's not pretty.

 

“What the hell, man?” The door closes just as the words spill from Dean, and future him looks up from the map on the table, eyebrows raised.

 

“What?”

 

“ ' _What?'_ I've been here for a couple hours, seen how screwed up every damn thing is, and all you can say is 'what'?”

 

Future him sighs, walking around to the front of the table and leans against it, crossing his arms. “Okay, I bite. What's your problem? Because from the minute I got back you've been acting like you lost a damn pissing contest against - ”

 

And that's it. That's all it takes for Dean to lose it, to see red and ignore every sense that's telling him to shut his mouth.

 

“How could you let this happen? How could you let Cas get so messed up that he's – this isn't _Cas._ Because you remember Cas, don't you? He raised us from Hell, left a bit of a mark on our shoulder, and you god-damn owed it to him to make sure he didn't -” Dean cuts himself off because he can't, he just _can't_ say it out loud. Because that makes it real. “Son of a bitch.” he whispers, shaking his head. “You _owe_ him.”

 

“You think that I don't care.” future him says, and it's not a question even though it should have been. He doesn't need to ask, though, because he can tell from the way past him is tensed up, from the way his jaw is a little tighter than normal, that he's accusing him of the same thing Sam had. The same thing _the Devil_ had, he has to remind himself.

 

“Well let me tell you something, then, _Dean._ ” he spits, pushing off of the chipped wood and taking a step closer to himself. “You don't know Jack. You come here - ”

 

“Sent here.”

 

“Whatever – and you act like there ain't nothing here that's your fault. Well here's a news flash for you, it's _all_ your fault. Because you're me, and like it or not, this is going to be your future. Because you're a coward, Dean. You haven't got the guts to do what you need to, you're not going to say yes to Michael even if I tell you to, because you think there's another way. There's _not._ So keep your opinions” he says, taking a step closer so that they're a hairs breadth away. “to yourself.”

 

They stare for a moment, green eyes fluid with anger, and Dean's speaking lowly before he even registers the words. “But I won't let him go. Not like this.”

 

“You really don't get it, do you?” future him murmurs, shaking his head. It's as if he almost pities him, and that's something Dean really doesn't need (nor want). “I didn't let him go. I let him _live._

 

“He was a wreck. The apocalypse comes, and we lose. The angels give up, they go wherever their precious God pissed off to, and Cas gets left behind because he cared.

 

“You know, the thing about angels, it's that they have this _frequency._ It's like a brain radio, they're all in tune with each other, and even if they shut it off there's still this kind of humming going on, right in the back of their head. When the angels went, so did that. And you weren't there to see what that did. You weren't there to see how, for the first time in a millennia, he was alone. You weren't there to see how he was so damn confused that he got drunk, and you weren't there to see how he started scratching at his back because his damn _wings_ weren't there! You don't remember having to patch him up because he'd cut up his own skin trying to find out where the fuck they'd gone, and you don't remember seeing him break down. So forgive me if I let him get high and drunk, or fuck a dozen chicks, because that's how he copes.”

 

And maybe Dean feels like the air's been knocked out of him. Maybe he thinks he could throw up, and maybe he bites his cheek against the stinging of his eyes, because how the hell is he supposed to process that?

 

“There's gotta be a way...”

 

“To what?” future him asks, stepping back to pace the floor. “To fix him? We're all broke here, Dean. You can't put china back together when you ain't got nothing to keep it in place. It's too late, now. Too late for him, too late for me, _us._ ”

 

And somehow Dean knows that when he says 'us', he isn't talking about the two of them stood in that room.

 

He thinks maybe future him has a point. Later, he somehow ends up riding with Castiel, and he can see _his_ Cas in there somewhere, but its buried beneath a ton of crap and angst – things that Dean knows enough about because that's him 90% of the time (and apparently, in a few years, it'll be 100% of the time).

 

He thinks that maybe it's not so bad, letting Cas have this. Because as much as he recognises those baby blues, he recognises a lost cause, too.

 

(He prays without sarcasm for the first time in a long time, once they reach their destination. He prays to whatever Gods or angels are left listening that the dumb son of a bitch five feet away won't break any more, and he prays that he has it in him to change this.

 

And when he sees Castiel's vessel abandoned on the floor, it's a little easier to believe that somebody's still out there. If they listened to the first half, then maybe there's hope for the second.)


End file.
